Though thou wert fain to pass me quickly,
Yet backward didst thou look by chance;
Thy wistful lips were frankly parted,
Impetuous scorn was in thy glance.
Would that I ne'er had sought to hold thee,
To touch thy fleeing gown's white train!
The dear mark of thy tiny footprints
Would that I ne'er had found again!
For now thy rare wild charm has vanished,
Like others thou art tame to see,
Intolerably kind and gentle--
Alas! thou art in love with me.